Golias, don't know where you got that 700 number.
There are roughly about 425 Borges poems. You
have a copy of our version of the collected poems,
don't you?
I don't know who Fulford is, but yes, by all means,
if you think he would be interested, go ahead. I
have been disappointed that none of the journals
have published anything about this scandal. Or if
one has, I haven't seen it.
Christopher, you have a wonderful knack for posting
good poems in wretched versions. That Albornoz
milonga is a botch. Alastair Reid's version is
better, but still not very good. Here is the poem
in proper verse:
MILONGA FOR ALBORNOZ
Somebody knows the hour,
Someone has numbered the daY,
Someone for Whom there is never
Any hurry or any delay.
Albornoz goes by whistling
A milonga from his home town;
He cocks an eye at the morning
With his slouch hat slanted down.
A morning in 1890,
Late summer or early fall---
Down there in El Retiro
He could no longer recall
How many girls and cardsharps
Had lost their shirts by then,
How many knifefights he had with the law,
With outsiders and neighborhood men.
He was known for a thief and a hustler,
A no-good all his life,
But in a street on the Southside
He kept a date with a knife.
And not one knife, but three of them
Before the break of day
Came down on him in the darkness,
And he did not run away.
When his chest was pierced by the cold steel
His face looked none the sadder;
Alejo Albornoz went to his death
As if it didn't much matter.
I think he might be pleased to know
He is still remembered in rhyme.
Forgetfulness and memory---
That's all that there is to time.
|